Anagnorisis
by Soulreciever
Summary: He'd stared at the phone for a good minute after that trying, and failing, to wrap his head around what'd just happened while also attempting, once more with no success, to tell himself to just let the whole thing go. Narumitsu, angst, randomness, dual destiny spoilers.
1. Ignorance

Disclaimer: I own nothing that you see others than this pretty virilant plot bunny! Warnings of slash and angst, spoilers for Dual Destinies from the get go and apologies for any AAI plot points I miss but I've not yet gotten around to playing that!

* * *

"Daddy, you know I'll love you no matter what, right?"

It'd been an entirely out of place remark and several shades too serious surrounded, as they had been, by the somewhat riotous display of the local party supply store and, instantly on high alert he'd met his daughter's eyes and enquired,

"Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

A particularly expansive gesture of dismissal which, of course, further cements how much of an open book he'll always be when it comes to her and, smile again firmly in place she'd responded,

"No, it's ok daddy, I'm fine, I promise!...I just..." A subtle tilt to her head that'd suggested she'd been picking her next words carefully, then, "I'm here if you want to talk, ok?"

He'd tossed the phrase over and over in his head after that, worrying at it until, in a fit of desperation, he'd called Maya.

"Maybe she's caught a little of how tense you are over the whole Apollo thing." It'd actually been somewhat rational despite the reality of him phoning at silly am and he'd opened his mouth to thank her the indulgence only to be interrupted a yawn and an addition of, "though it's more likely that she's decided to cheat and use the 'poor innocent daughter' card to make sure she wins,"

"Wins what?"

"Oh...nothing, nothing...I'm just tired and babbling nonsense, pressures of the job and all." A bought of entirely fake sounding laughter and then he'd been very promptly hung up on.

He'd stared at the phone for a good minute after that trying, and failing, to wrap his head around what'd just happened while also attempting, once more with no success, to tell himself to just let the whole thing go.

Thankfully a particularly taxing case had landed in his lap precisely five hours later otherwise he's pretty certain he'd have driven himself crazy trying to blindly deduce what on earth was going on.

As it was it'd sort of ticked over in the background until he'd bumped into Gumshoe during recess and, feeling just the slightest bit guilty, he'd enquired,

"Detective you are aware that placing money into a pool, even one that's kept between friends, is considered a form of gambling, correct?"

Of course instantly the fear of yet another pay chop had swept over the other's face and, leaning inward in a conspiratorial manner, he'd whispered,

"Just clue me in then I'll make sure Maya returns whatever you put in and no one has to be any the wiser, ok?"

Fear becomes panic pretty instantly and after glancing once over each shoulder he'd enquired,

"Not even the chief prosecutor?"

Not 'mr edgeworth' which should have been hint enough to let ignorance be bliss, even without the shear randomness of specifying keeping the other out after he'd already promised complete silence and yet, stubborn as always, he'd instantly responded,

"I promise."

A sigh then,

"Everyone started making a guess on when you were finally going to come clean, just for fun to begin with, then Mr Butz said it might be more interesting if everyone put a little money down and one thing lead to another." A shy little smile then, "I didn't really want to get involved, I mean you're an honest enough guy and even Miss Trucy couldn't say anything for sure which means you've a really good reason for keeping silent, but then Miss Fey told me how much the pot had gotten up to and I was thinking if I won I could finally get a ring worthy of my Maggy..."

"Ok, firstly congratulations, detective, I can honestly say I've never seen two people more suited for one another than you and Miss Byrd, secondly, perhaps you could try that again in simpler terms for the sake of my sanity."

"We know about you and Mr Edgeworth, pal."

Just what, apparently, everyone knew was more than evident the detectives general tone and he'd just about gotten his head to work enough to ask 'why' when, in what was frankly the worst timing yet, the bailiff had appeared to call him back in.

In all honesty it'd been somewhat milder than some of the wild scenarios he'd likely have managed to conjure given enough time and the shear relief of that fact had allowed his head to click fully back onto the case for long enough to prove his client innocent.

Of course once back in the office he'd found everyone again caught up in their own thing and of course without anything else better to do his head had begun picking at the whole thing as though it was simply another case to solve.

Trucy had know he was bisexual since stumbling across the one, highly incriminating, photo he'd kept of the detective he'd rebounded onto after the whole Dahlia affair had blown up in his face; Larry knew that he found Edgeworth attractive, but he'd also told his friend that that was as far as it went, that wanting to date the other just because he was easy on the eyes made about as much sense as wanting to date a painting or sculpture for the same reasoning; He'd phoned Maya when Iris had asked him not to visit for a while, desperate to know if it was because she'd believed what the press was saying and if there was any hope in salvaging things yet again and been told, very calmly, that it was not that. That, apparently, he'd told everyone _but _the woman he supposedly loved that he was going to take Trucy in without ever realising he'd done as such.

For a moment the process of linking clues together slides to a haut and he remembers how much empathy he'd felt when she'd eventually agreed to see him again, how seeing her putting a brave face on wounds still so very fresh had not only made him determined to try just that little harder himself but also spilled a rather inelegant apology from his lips.

She'd smiled, softer than usual but with enough warmth to it that he knew it was more than simply mask for his sake and then,

"_No, it's ok, you thought you'd told me because why wouldn't you, I mean I'm the girl you loved enough to swallow poison for, right?" A shaky breath and, eyes drifting to focus somewhere over his left shoulder, she'd added, "we've both grown up, Phoenix, become people other than we were back then and we both need to accept what that means for us...accept that the people we are now could never really be anything other than good friends and finally move on with our lives." _

She'd been right, of course and so, for all that he'd fought a while to try and prove otherwise, eventually his heart had caught up with his head and that had been that.

What would he do if Edgeworth told him that he'd realised that their all be it tentative friendship was built on nothing more than nostalgia and that he'd decided to step away for closures sake?

That he'd taken a job somewhere up state or, worse, far far across the ocean and that he wasn't going to leave an address this time?

That it really was goodbye?

**'Miles Edgeworth chooses death.'**

The ghost of those words, the emptiness he'd felt on reading them the first time, in believing beyond doubt in the reality they represented, tightens about his heart and for the very first time he finds himself glad the solitude.

He can't imagine he'd be in any way comfortable to be around for any of the various 'talents' right now, after all.

In the end it's that thought, the simple concept that he might, once more, hurt someone without actually meaning to do as such, that has him reaching for the phone and, with a deep breath, dialling Edgeworth's office.


	2. Revilation

PW 2

In the end he'd been too much of a coward to simply out and out tell the other man 'I just need to know you're alive' especially now that he was hyper aware of just how casually flirtatious he'd gotten in conversations with him lately.

Instead he'd needled at the other about needing fresh air and made a long, eloquent, speech on how the steadily healing legal system wasn't so very fragile that his actually taking his lunch break would see a return to the 'dark age of the law'.

Finally with a long suffering sigh he'd given in a tired, "there's no arguing with you when you're in this mood is there?"

To which he'd responded a cheery, "Nope, I'll see you at noon at the usual place, my treat," and hung up before the other could argue the point any further.

The 'usual place' is a little family run bistro a short walk from the prosecutors office and a somewhat chaotic bike ride from his own that they'd used, initially, as a sort of base of operations the whole Kristoph saga and then adopted the to go to location every meeting they'd had together since.

It's also just swanky enough that he'd felt under dressed each and every time he'd stepped through the door while in what everyone was one referring, affectionately, as his hobo outfit, but no where near the level where Edgeworth's ruffles could seamlessly blend into the background which had always made finding the other amongst the crowd far, far, too easy.

Today, however, there was no flash of magenta, no over the top cravat, anywhere in sight and, sighing a little under his breath, he fumbles his phone free the somewhat restrictive pocket of his suit trouser, entirely expecting to be greeted a text informing him that the other had had a last minute change of heart.

What he finds, however, is nothing and he's just begun wonder how likely it was that something terrible had happened and that just maybe he'd been having a conversation with a ghost, when a familiar voice remarks,

"You're blocking the doorway."

He's sat two tables away, stripped down to only the bright white of a freshly pressed shirt and what looks like mohair trousers in a grey almost the precise shade of his eyes, face twisted, as always, a displeased frown.

On automatic he's making apologies, closing the gap and settling down the seat opposite as he babbles some foolish nonsense he knows isn't actually being listened too.

Silence reigns as the wait staff collect and issue their order and two thoughts form solid in his head the interim, the first a repetition the observation of how much his friend is beginning to look like his father and again the concern of just what that must be doing the others mentality and the second a fierce want to run a finger down the long line the others exposed neck.

In his minds eye blooms a courtroom scene, he once again in the witness box with Apollo leaning heavily at the bench to his left and Klavier lounging, ever the cool collected 'Rock god' on the one to his right.

_"__**'I have no feelings for Edgeworth,'**__ I'm sorry, sir, but this piece of evidence contradicts that fact!" A waving some obscure piece of paper covered in a swift sketch of the two of them in the bistro, he with one hand stretched out in clear intent to touch, his signature clear in one corner. _

_"Objection, all this proves is that Mr Wright finds Edgeworth as pleasant to look at as say a Rossetti or a Rodan."_

_"Objection, I believe you'll agree, prosecutor, that even the most ardent art student would keen their appreciation to simply a visual level."_

_"Of course, anything else would risk damaging the piece." _

_"Then explain to me why Mr Wright has clearly drawn himself attempting to touch Mr Edgeworth." _

_An excited murmur arises from the gallery as Apollo looks on proudly and, in the witness stand, his other self begins to sweat just a little. _

"The truth, Wright." As calm and about as Edgeworth as three words can get which hardwires past how tired and downright foggy his head feels right now and allows him to process that he's likely spent the last solid minute staring at his panini as though it'd killed a member of his family.

Of course he's instantly upward, smiling the sheepish grin he knows the other knows means he's about to launch into a bluff of some form or another and doing everything in his power to keep his eyes away that stupidly enticing strip of skin.

"What on earth are you on about?"

"You all but begged me to come here ergo you had motive, I would prefer to hear it now so that I can enjoy the rest of my meal."

"I wouldn't call it begging and anyway I already gave you my reason on the phone."

"Ah yes, your supposed concern for my lack of a social life outside of my office."

"Right, I am your friend after all, which means I worry about you being all cooped up in that stuffy place twenty four seven."

"I assure you that, contrary to popular opinion, I do require sleep, Wright and, usually, my office is a perfectly pleasant work environment, indeed I believe you have, on more than one occasion, expressed envy at it's size."

"Usually?"

"Apparently one of the interns played some form of practical joke on another and has, inadvertently, broken the air conditioning."

He winces a little in sympathy at that, for whatever reason the humidity was proving hell this year, reaching a point where even he'd cracked and bought a small mobile air conditioner for the office despite always believing the things little more than an expensive luxury.

"That explains the outfit then." A smile and, without thinking, he adds, "and here I was hoping it was for my benefit," as though this was twenty four hours previous and he could still say such things without being aware that they carried certain connotations.

Edgeworth is, thankfully, still very much the same man and simply makes a displeased noise before pointedly turning his attention back to his salad.

_"I admit that I lied, but only because the truth hurts too much." His mental self looks broken and it's clear Apollo feels guilty the fact, however, he can also see the glint his apprentices stubborn determination to press on regardless, _

_"What is the truth, Sir?" _

_"That I have been madly and completely in love with Edgeworth for what feels a lifetime and that that sentiment is completely unrequited."_

A sharp sting somewhere about his heart and he finds his apatite, as well as his previously upbeat mood, very swiftly smothered the old, familiar, cloud of depression.

He's forming excuses to scramble back to the office in desperate hope that perhaps Trucy hasn't quite yet gotten around to tossing his last batch of medication when Edgeworth very gently clears his throat in clear request his attention.

"I know you think me emotionally stunted, Wright and I will concede that I understand why you have drawn such a conclusion and yet that is not quite the truth, however, the semantics are something to discuss at a later date. For now I wish to inform you that I can see how miserable you are right now and remind you that I am a highly trust worthy individual." A subtle shifting of posture, likely the discomfort he feels at being a little more open than usual, then, "of course I shall respect your choice to keep the matter to yourself if you wish to do a such, but I'd ask you to show me a similar respect and desist the ruse that you are 'fine'."

"Ok, I'm sorry I side stepped answering you before and for what I said back in the space centre...honestly I was having a friendly dig at you but I guess it didn't quite come off that way." His fingers are at his neck that frustratingly stubborn habitual gesture before he even realises and it's far too much like hard work to keep the accompanying 'guess I messed up' smile from following in it's wake.

Still it's a cue to Edgeworth that he's being at least half way serious now and he watches his posture relax back it's resting state before he adds,

"Someone said something recently that got my head in a strange place and I got to thinking about what happened after I cracked DL-6 and I guess I just wanted to know you were still ok."

It's about as embarrassing to say as he'd thought it might be and there's an edge of yearning to it all he's absolutely certain will be as giant red flag to the other about just why he'd been affected by it all.

There is not, however, the anticipated recoil in horror or, indeed, any true reaction too speak of and a part of his hind brain starts picking at that fact, twirling it round and round trying to figure out _if_ it has any form of significance and, if so, _what _that significance actually was.

"You really are over dramatic." Glib, as though he's chastising a particularly frustrating witness and, indeed, that familiar sarcastic smile has fixed itself into the corners of his mouth.

This, at least, is safer footing and he's giving Edgeworth the show he knows the other is expecting, gasping and placing hand to his heart a dramatic,

"You wound me."

"Case in point." The smile shuts off a speed that is still just a touch unnerving then, "I assure you that such things are far behind me, Wright, a growth that is, in no small part, thanks to you."

"So you're back on that whole 'I owe you a great debt, Wright,' nonsense again are you? Look, even if I were the sort of terrible friend that expected repayment for every little favour, you've more than paid your due by helping out these last few years."

"Hm, it seems we shall have to continue to agree to disagree on this matter."

"Stubborn."

"Guilty as charged." With which he's suddenly smiling properly and his fingers itch to touch the expression to assure himself its validity...to push every inch its beauty into the whorls, loops and arches of his finger tips so that he might have even the barest chance of replicating it in clumsy graphite...

The wanting is as physical ache deep in his bones and shivering he comes the terrible realisation that there shall be no going back.

That now that he is aware, at last, his own heart he shall never even be able to be in the same room as the other man without second guessing each word and every brief moment of eye contact.

Still they're here right now because he couldn't stomach the thought of not having Edgeworth in his life at all which means stepping away isn't an option either.

Which leaves only one possible way forward.

The truth.


	3. Stratagem

AN: some intentional OOC for Edgeworth and a pre warning that the next chapter might not come so speedily as its still WIP as we speak!

Ooooooooooooo

Breathing out through his nose he reminds himself that he is a grown man with a job that he loves and that, theoretically, should bring in enough to pay the bills and leave enough for a little fun on the side, as well as a happy, well balanced, teenaged daughter.

That he's bigger and better than the shear panic response that's come to strangle every last word right in his throat and make him look even more like a giant bumbling idiot in Edgeworth's eyes.

It really, really, doesn't help that he's only had this conversation once before in his life and that, that time, he'd been unwittingly talking to a crazed psychopath plotting already to use him as a patsy in her next grand scheme.

Add to that the complication that every time he does manage to form what feels an acceptable balance between placing some frame about the depth and breadth his feeling for the other man, while also insuring there's not even a shred of an implication that he expects any form of response from him, his head gets caught in the same little irrational thought circle.

_I can't really call him by his last name for this right? I mean, for all that I'm sure I'm getting shot down faster than the wrong evidence in a trial, I don't want it to come off as a joke or a minor issue. 'Miles' is still that dorky kid who saved me at school that day right now so that'd be all sorts of wrong...Edgy is Larry's stupid nickname and I really don't want to be shunted into the same category as him...so it's going to have to be his last name, but._..

"Wright, as much as watching you flapping your mouth like a goldfish without air is, somewhat depressingly, the highlight of my day so far, I do have a job I need to get back to."

Condescending and all together exactly what he needs to get him just the right side of angry so that just blurting out, "I love you, ok," is rationalised away with 'if nothing else it'll break that smug ass look off his face' no matter how childish and somewhat nasty about the edges such thinking is.

For a moment there is nothing, the sharp, beautiful, face settled the blank neutrality reserved only for when he's processing a particularly perplexing or foolish statement.

Then one hand raises up, a single finger extends and the long buried gesture of ultimate chastisement and smug derision makes an unwelcome reappearance.

"I'm sorry but I don't accept."

"What?! You can't get all passive aggressive about me even jokingly suggesting you aren't a normal person and then respond to a love confession like that."

"But that wasn't a confession, that was something you said to get a reaction because, apparently, you believe me some dimwit unable to see even the hand before his face despite ample evidence to the contrary."

Feeling distinctly as though somehow the conversation had gotten ahead of him, he massages gently at his temples in the desperate hope of suffocating the headache before it quite begins and remarks,

"In English, Edgeworth."

"I have been aware, for quite some time now, that you were attracted to me."

"How long is 'quite some time'?"

"Hm, I would say seven years for certain though I had my suspicions before that."

"Oh god." He can _feel_ the blush on his face which can only mean he's heading towards being able to blend in with Edgeworth's courtroom attire right about now and, tossing every prayer he can possible think of out into the either for the ground to just open out and swallow him he states, "I'm so sorry, you should have said something sooner and I would have...well I don't know but I sure as heck would have done something, I mean you must have been feeling so uncomfortable and I kept forcing myself into your face and..."

"Phoenix, shut up."

If the utterance of his first name hadn't instantly fried all his major cognitive abilities, then the shear casual nature of the command would have, which of course Edgeworth had realised ahead of time if the smug ass grin there on his face now is anything to go by and yet, unsurprisingly, he can't seem to find it in himself to feel angry at the manipulation.

"Your interest in me has not been discomforting, in fact I have found the idea that something about me had interested _the_ Phoenix Wright more than a little flattering."

Mostly broken still the strange, strange, turn his day had suddenly taken his head clicks itself onto auto pilot and shapes about a semi snarky,

"Huh, at what point did I become a _the_?"

"Oh the fan-club appeared somewhere mid hobo, there's nothing sexier than a man that can be fixed, apparently, though I, personally, am very, very, glad that you found this whole hot lawyer dad aesthetic even if it is terribly distracting."

Ok and he's pretty certain he can hear the spronk as his cerebral cortex just collapses in on itself with that one.

Still his mouth seems to have run off on its own accord and he internally winces at how star stuck fangirl he sounds as it enquires, "distracting?"

"Well yes, I mean that waistcoat does all sorts of favours for your figure and those new trousers..." a shiver and then, with the clearing of the throat, he is again very much his stiff shirted courtroom rival, "but that's all by the by."

It's the perfect verbal equivalent of a cold shower and, for all that he feels still as though he's stepped into the twilight zone, he's again a man completely in control as he responds,

"By the by?"

"Given that you flirt with everyone you've known for more than ten minutes straight, and that I have just witnessed you attempting to use your supposed infatuation with me as a weapon, you will forgive me for not being particularly motivated in pushing for 'more' between us."

It's not the first he'd been told that what he always thought of a being 'friendly' actually came across as 'flirty' and, long since tired of trying to plead his case in this matter, he simply smiles and, throwing all caution to the wind, enquires,

"How would you feel about me getting you motivated?"

A raise of those fine eyebrows then, with a smile that's one hundred percent challenge he responds,

"Bring it on."


	4. Hiatus

so some OC for Phoenix here but I'm figuring post hobo era Nick is going to have a few mental scars that are going to mess with his personality just a bit so yeh!

Athena is on him almost the very moment he gets in the door, talking a mile a minute about whatever crazy case she'd managed to get roped into now and sporadically pushing pieces of evidence into his field of view likely in hope of some fresh new perspective.

He slows her down, listens patiently to the explanation and even helps her weed out the entirely useless evidence before retreating to his office some half baked excuse he knows she's going to understand utter nonsense basically the moment it's out of his mouth.

Still, to give her credit, she lets him have a good hour alone quite contentedly nursing a happy little panic attack before Trucy appears at the door, blanket in one hand and glass of wine in the other.

"You'd best make it a bottle sweetheart,"

A roll of the eyes as she passes him over the blanket and then, with a dramatic flourish, transforms the glass into the requested bottle,

"Ok, spill."

Rolling her into a hug he gives over the entire sorry story, pausing from time to time to make an effort to empty out the bottle as swiftly as possible, hopeful that his daughter might take pity on his pathetic state and magic another for his consumption.

"So you're not in a secret steamy love affair with Uncle Edgeworth?" It's uttered with what can only be labeled as shippers regret and he makes a mental note to phone Emma later and again remind her that Fanfiction was on the 'not until Trucy's in her twenties' list of Internet content, before sighing a little and responding,

"Nope, in fact daddy, in true daddy fashion, hadn't even realised quite how much he liked uncle Egeworth until he found out about the betting pool." The last little bit hadn't actually meant to slip out and, as he feels her tense, he mentally smacks himself about the head and relinquishes what's left of the wine before he gets any closer to 'crazy ass drunk who can't keep his stupid maw shut.'

He knows that, in the interest of 'good parenting', he should probably apologise for basically clumsily throwing the blame in her general direction and then give her a stern lecture about getting into something 'fishy' and yet, instead, he hugs her all the harder and tells her,

"I'm not angry, in fact, I'm actually really impressed that you got it all under even uncle Edgeworth's radar."

"Me?"

"Truce, even I'm not stupid enough to buy uncle Larry as anything other than the idea guy in this little operation."

"Still you've no evidence to prove I'm head honcho."

"Of course not, you're my daughter, after all."

A look that says he's very much a strange, strange, man for being so proud of something he really, really, shouldn't be and then a soft kiss to his cheek and a murmured, "Thanks, daddy," before she enquires, "so what are you going to do now?"

"Ugh, I really don't know, I let my mouth run away with me again and talked bigger than I can reach."

"Mm and it's not as though you can get away with bluffing either," suddenly a wicked smile blooms onto her face and with an enthusiasm that can mean only bad things she remarks, "this calls for research!"

X

'Research' had proven to be paying for a trip down to Trucy's favourite cafe to hype his daughter up on inexpensive coffee and read their way through an impressively large amount of really cheesy fanfiction.

Somewhere between espresso number ten and latte number twelve Apollo had phoned to let him know he'd secured another case and, hyper aware of the 'look' a particularly oily looking member of the counter staff had started sending Trucy, he'd sent the girl to 'assist' her brother despite it closing in for eight pm.

He'd reached a particularly nice caffeine high not long after and had actually started stumbling onto stories that were really rather emotionally investing when,

"Ah, guten tag, herr Wright."

Recently he'd been thinking that maybe, just maybe, his almost legendary good luck had finally decided to twist in on itself and the appearance of number 3 on a list of 'people I'd rather not have find me right now' felt pretty solid evidence for the theory.

Still, bringing back out the old look of bored disinterest to combat the shear smug sparkle of victory from one Klavier Gavin, felt a great deal like getting off easy, after all, his luck had been almost supernaturally good and it felt all too conceivable that it turning on its axes could have seen number 1 on that list rising back from the dead just to make an appearance.

"Good evening prosecutor, what brings you to this neck of the woods so late on a Saturday?"

"Pleasure, at least initially." Which explained the ever so slightly gaudier outfit and extra layer of jewellery and, in hope of providing a distraction, he enquires,

"Duty call?"

"Apparently meinen capitan does not believe in the term 'off duty',"

"Mm, he subscribes to the religion of 'if crime does not sleep then neither do we'," a flash of teeth that he hopes comes off 'casually friendly' rather than 'casually threatening' before adding, "you seem awfully happy for a man dragged into work on his day off."

"Ah, ja, that would be the joy of a man prised from yet another tedious charity gala filled with more money leaches than truly desperate causes." A happy wink, then, "though it wouldn't do to let herr Edgeworth know that he's actually done me a favour."

"So you came here to hide out for a bit?"

"Ja, ja, though only just long enough to prove a point, I have no want to prod the 'sleeping dragon', after all."

"I imagine not, no."

It feels the perfect chance to 'make a break' and, summoning as much of his latent acting ability as he can, he smiles, shuts down the browser (insuring to clear his browsing history as he does as such) and bluffs a really good excuse for leaving so very suddenly.

Really, given that the meeting had happened at all, he shouldn't have felt so darned assed smug about the whole thing, shouldn't have started patting himself over a job well done until he was home free.

He's just cleared the register, all of a foot from the doorway, when,

"Perhaps you would like to talk about it herr Wright."

Of course the moment he meets Klavier's eyes he knows there's no point in attempting to claim ignorance and, as much as he's certain playing the 'isn't this dancing with the devil' card would provide an escape, he finds his stubborn self turning back and enquiring,

"Why should I trust you, of all people?"

"Because we all of us deserve a second chance and because I am not my brother, herr Wright."

And, of course, because he will apparently always be a sucker for that 'I have deep, broken, layers' edge clear in the remark he sighs deep and, ordering another coffee, recounts his short little sob story.

To his credit Klavier keeps any amusement he feels the tale of self inflicted pain from his face and, indeed, looks somewhat thoughtful,

"Ja, I see, you are one of the poor unfortunates that are naturally inclined to be 'friendly' but crumble into a broken wreck when you actively have to think about even flirting and now you have to make Herr Edgeworth _believe_ that you love him?"

"Ugh, it sounds twice as bad when you say it," he remarks, desperately struggling against the compulsion to furl his head into his hands a very visual representation the shear sense of defeat he's feeling right now.

"Ah, forgive me, meinen kamerad, I find things stick harder when I talk them through, I didn't mean to 'drive the stake home' so to speak." A smile all the more winning for the sincerity now behind it then, "I believe I may have a solution for you."

"Which is?"

"That, I am afraid, will have to wait until tomorrow. I am already treading dangerous waters, after all."

"Hmm, this sounds like padding so you can pull a dramatic reveal."

"Of course, once a showman always a showman, after all."

"Yes and, as Trucy has taught me better than to argue with that sort of headset, where and when for tomorrow?"

"My office at nine, I'll buy in pastries."

"You'd better buy strong coffee too, you know if you want me anywhere near resembling an actual human being."

"Noted." Another true smile and then, with a dramatic wave of the hand, he states, "until tomorrow then, meinen komerad!"

Perhaps it's because he's finally been caught up in the other's natural charisma, or perhaps it's because he's not quiet as down from the caffeine high that he finds himself waving in return, and, in the best german he can manage, responding an enthused, "Auf wiedersehen, Klavier."


	5. Resolution

AN: final chapter and I know it's probably not the direction everyone wanted and not what I'd originally envisioned either but it's where they ended out so...

* * *

He'd given up on the suit after he'd lost a third button to fingers still far too asleep to attempt dexterity and eventually resorted to rescuing his tracksuit from the goodwill bag Athena had shoved it into the week previous a happy 'won't be needing this again boss!'

Bleary eyed research over a warm cup of tea (even looking at his coffee machine this morning had induced a horrific head ache) and a pot of instant ramen (discovered at the very back of the cupboard and likely at least two months out of date) had revealed that the first bus down to the prosecution office didn't show up until eight and there was no way in hell he was riding his bike this tired even if it did have a set of lights.

Three minutes later he's clambering into Apollo's rusty old Cortina, smiling wide at his subordinate as he remarks,

"You're a life saver."

"Right, well being grateful is a start."

"Ugh, you want me to play gofer on the new case right?"

"And actually give me something for the petrol cost this time."

"Fine, but you talk of this to no one, not even Trucy, ok?"

"Deal"

Of course, rookie that he still is, Apollo leaves it at that and, though it's more than a little tempting to teach him an important lesson about trusting lawyers to simply keep their word, he's actually grateful enough to not want to abuse the others nieveity on this occasion.

Once in the prosecution office he takes the stairs on pure habit and makes it an entire flight before the sound of Edgeworth laughing figuratively smacks him in the face.

He knows, of course, that the other has a sense of humour and for all that laughter is a rare expression of his amusement it's not an utterly unheard of thing.

Laughter like this though...

A shake of the head and as he rounds the corner he finds himself greeted the sight of Edgeworth, balanced one step up from the tiny landing dividing this flight of steps and the next, one long, graceful, hand extending out toward the unmistakable figure of prosecutor Blackwell.

He's between them in what feels a blink of an eye, gripping Edgeworth's wrist just tight enough that there will likely be bruises tomorrow and pulling the other into what, thankfully, proves an empty meeting room.

He's pretty certain that, if it'd been physically possible for someone as healthy as Edgeworth, his companion's face would be a nice lurid scarlet right about now and there's a part of him that's feeling keyed up enough to point not only this out but also how well that shade would match his outfit.

Thankfully that self same part is screaming that he currently has the other trapped against a wall and that, while Edgeworth is still angry enough to be simply staring at him as though he's a dent in his shiny new sports car rather than giving him the lecture he knows he deserves and, intriguingly, prosecutor Blackwell hasn't decided to chase after them, he should be taking advantage of the fact.

Initially the kiss is pretty uncomfortable, Edgeworth a very tense, unmoving, object beneath him and he's pulling back, mentally drowning already in the guilt of pushing just a little too much, when he physically feels that tension give.

From there the hormones take over and he's a fist jammed hard into the others cravat ('jabot' his mental Edgeworth voice admonishes what feels the millionth time) before, at last, his rationality, annoyingly, catches back up with him.

The step backwards proves all the harder as he looks again at Edgeworth, takes in how much the other clearly wants him right now and yet still he takes it, runs a shaking hand through his hair and remarks,

"Sorry, this wasn't fair and it's certainly not doing anything for my case...I'm gonna go see Klavier and you're more than welcome to pretend this never happened or that I don't exist anymore or anything really that you want to." A smile no matter how very, very, little he feels like it and then he walks away.

He's stepping into the hall of Klavier's floor when Edgeworth catches him up, the grip of his own fingers tight and desperate as he remarks,

"You always were so infuriatingly dense for someone so smart." A wry smile and though the grip softens it does not let completely, indeed his fingers start tracing casual patterns across his wrist as he adds, "you walked away just now not because you wanted to, or in some conniving attempt to prove yourself noble, but because you loved me enough to make that sort of sacrifice if it meant my happiness. That _means_ something, Phoenix, even if it did come out of you thinking before you acted."

He can feel the newer smile, the one that spoke a wry amusement he'd found in his personal faults at a time when even to smile had felt luxury, forming on his lips and, before Edgeworth can react to it his usual unique breed of concern he remarks,

"Mm, why change a habit of a lifetime?"

"Why indeed." With which he at last relinquishes his arm and, stepping back out of his personal space he enquires,"as fun as this has been, I do have a case to get back to, perhaps we could continue this 'conversation' later?"

"Over dinner, you mean?"

"Dinner would certainly be a start." A wink that he's pretty certain he could get written up as gross indecency and with a parting shot of, "I'll pick you up at ten, wear something a little less welfare state," the other continues on his way.

"It seems you have 'gotten the girl', so to speak." Klavier, of course, leaning, two doors down, against the wall, his face the perfect picture of smug self satisfaction.

"You set me up."

"Ya, I'm afraid I did."

"You know how risky that was, right?"

"Nein, meinen komerade, because you are who you are, a truly selfless man, there was no risk to this strategy."

It's a sweet sort of sentiment no matter how strangely childish it is about the edges and, frustratingly, he can not help but feel charmed the fact.

"Thank you, Klavier,"

"If this softens meinen capitan's demeanour even a little we may consider ourselves even." A wink to tell he's teasing just a little and then, smile softening he adds, "that and we all of us deserve true happiness, herr Wright, this was simply me assuring you were paid your due."

"Huh, you really are a romantic, aren't you?"

"A fact I think we should keep to ourselves, meinen komerade, I have a reputation to keep, after all."

"My lips are sealed,"

"Gutt, then if you will excuse me I should also get back to work before my absence is noted."

"Sure, that's fine. We should do this again sometime."

The briefest moment of shock and then, a soft pleased, smile, as he responds, "I shall look forward to it."


End file.
